Young Writers Society

CONCEPT: World War between the three primary races of the world and a super race of their own inadvertent creation.

SETTING: Futuristic Fantasy world featuring three primary continents on a very small world. One continent, a large island really, has been converted into a sort of prison. The other two continents are larger; the first is inhabited by the three main races oft he world, the other is uninhabitable but very rich in many minerals that are key to the human race.

RACES:
--Human: Homo Sapiens as we know them. Technologically advanced, no magic to speak of. Their evolution closely follows our own, as does they technological advancement. Their country is rules by a democracy not unlike the United States of America. Because they have no magical talents, they are forced to create technology to make their lives easier. High Technology, No Magic.

--Arcanite: Tall, frail beings imbued with powerful innate magical talents. They're faces are vaguely human, with smaller eyes, noses and mouths than humans. They are physically weak, and their sense are dulled by millenia of using their magical talents to amplify them. Their magic is second to none. Because of their magic, they have no need for technology. They are the ultimate conservatives. Their country is run by a council of seven elected officials. The Arcanite are not thinkers--they are born with all the knowledge they need to survive and thrive. No Technology, High Magic.

--Gaelk: Short but solid folk who are the closest thing to living earth. They are intelligent beings, with limited magical talent that they nonetheless have great skill with. Their magic is limited to the earth and its minerals, which they use to power their technology. Their skin is much like living rock. Their society is run much as a tribe--a true communist society. Low Technology, Low Magic.

--Hybrid: The "Blood Dogs," as they call themselves, are a crossbreed of the three races, evolved over millennia of isolation. In the past, the three races had been allowed to interbreed with no interference. The three races merely turned a blind eye. When the crossbreed became to many in number though, they had enough. The crossbreeds were exiled to the uninhabited island of Kelchra, a land full of mountains, volcanic activity, and subterranean caverns. Interbreeding became a crime punishable by death. Over the centuries, the crossbreeds evolved into a sort of super race with the qualities of all three races. The rock like skin of the Gaelk, the Innate talents of the Arcanite, and the intelligence and need to perfect of the human race. Kelchra is a mineral rich land, and, under the radar of the other races, the Blood Dogs grew in power, numbers, and technology. They recently broke free of their prison, slaughtering the Gaelk that has been posted to guard them. With that victory, they took back lots of ground, and are steadily moving forward, toward the three capitals of the Triad. Moderate Technology, Moderate Magic.

TECHNOLOGY:

--High Technology: Laser Weapons, Jet Propulsion, Powersuits, Modern Medicine, etc.

--Low Technology: Blackpowder Weapons, Steam Engines

--No Technology: Swords, Longbows, little first aid knowledge, mounts, no vehicles.

MAGIC:

--High Magic: full elemental control, powerful spells with dramatic effects

--Low Magic: Single element control, subtle but effective spells.

--No Magic: Limited to technology only.

PLOT: Storybook writers will make a character using one of the Triad races. With the re-emergence of the Blood Dogs, the Triad sent forth a small army to quell the uprising. The army was decimated. The writers of this storybook will be those precious few who survived. Their goal--to trek over enemy lines to reach their superior officers and warn them of the oncoming army.

RULES:

As per general Storybook rules; godmoding allowed in character, no killing characters, etc.

This looks interesting. I shall create an Arcanite.

Name= Alicia
Age= 17
Race= Arcanite
Hair= Long, golden blonde.
Eyes= Forget-me-not blue.
Figure= Tall and frail. Very slight and no muscles.
Personality= Alicia is sweet and quiet but, surprisingly for her race, she has a strong, inner flame. While physically weak, Alicia has the knowledge of many generations running through her veins and a steely determination to do what is right which, right now, is warning the other members of the Triad races.
Abilities= Alicia is intelligent and possesses strong powers in all the elements. She does not understand technology though and neither does she care to use it, trusting more in herbs and her own two feet than in their strange medicines and vehicles.

Approved, Kitty.

NAME: Lance Benson
RACE: Human
AGE: 33
HEIGHT: 6'
WEIGHT: 180 lbs.
EYES: Brown
HAIR: Brown, cropped close to his head
PHYSIQUE: Athletic, runner's build
RANK: Corporal
BRANCH: Marine Corps Mobile Infantry
SECTION: Scout Sniper
WEAPONS: "Emergence" Anti-Matter Sniper Rifle (ElectroMagnetic Rail Gun System)
EQUIPMENT:
--Digital Mapping and Positioning System (DMPS)
--Personal Cloaking Field
--WarHawk Mobile Infantry Powersuit with "scouter" jump jets.
PERSONALITY: Rather unemotional in his work, he is generally a loner and does not attempt to make friends. He lives for the Marine Corps, and has no hobbies outside zeroing his rifle and perfecting his shot.He has little empathy, and never questions orders. Not fit to lead because of a distinct lack of concern for his fellow soldiers. Diagnosed with Anti-Social Personality Disorder at the age of twenty three.

NAME: Yanna Mon
RACE: humen
AGE: 19
HEIGHT: 5'6
WEIGHT: 115
EYES: texas sky blue
HAIR: brown with natural highlights
PHYSIQUE: Athletic, yet slinder
RANK: Private
BRANCH: Marines
SECTION: Cover Ops Specialist
WEAPONS: Knives galor, and a lazer gun that is in a chest holster
EQUIPMENT:
-- Throwing Knives, about nine in all, there are two strapped to each leg, one in each boot, one in her hair which is pulled back in a pony tail, and one stapped to each upper arm
-- a lazer gun in a chest harrness,
*Her knives can cut through bone*
PERSONALITY: She doesn't trust anyone unless they prove to be trustworth, she was abandoned at a young age so she doesn't fell like anyone loves her so she doesn't return the favor. She is the nicest person when she gets close to someone but no one has become close enough to her yet. She joined the marines so that she wouldn't have to live on the streets all the time.

The three races are different enough that there would be significant evidence of a cross. I'm gonna lay down the law and say no crossbreeds, period.

NAME: Francis Cutter
RACE: Human
AGE: 26
HEIGHT: 6' 6"
WEIGHT: 320 lb
EYES: Black
HAIR: none *completely bald*
PHYSIQUE: Extremely Muscular
RANK: PFC
BRANCH: Marine Corps Mobile Infantry
SECTION: Support Gunner
WEAPONS:
-G50 SAW:
100 round clip
.50 cal explosive rounds
capable of 10 rps (rounds per second)
semi, 3 and 5 round burst, and full auto
-Fragmentation Grenades
-G9 MP
20 round clip
9mm rounds
EQUIPMENT:
--ArckenHeinmen Condor Heavy Assault Power armor
PERSONALITY: Likes to joke around, but when he is required to be silent and serious, it's down to business. Smokes frequently, but never drinks. One of those people you just don't mess with (unless you or your gun is bigger). Relatively large ego and can get cocky relatively easily.

NAME: Sawyer
RACE: Human
AGE: 28
HEIGHT: 5'11
WEIGHT: 160-170 lbs.
EYES: Green
HAIR: Blonde & Brown, medium long.
PHYSIQUE: Athletic. Stocky but agile
RANK: Corporal. Recently demoted.
BRANCH: Army. Delta. Former paratrooper.
SECTION: Demo
WEAPONS: Suped Up Rifle. Shotgun. Knife.
EQUIPMENT:
--Explosives
--Lightweight, almost full body armor.
--Rope. Water Bottle.
PERSONALITY: Usually friendly enough. He can be a badass though. Don't mess.

NAME: Alim Dathan (Note that "Alim" is her family name, "Dathan" her given name.)

RACE: Gaelk

AGE: 28

HEIGHT: 4'10"

WEIGHT: 95 lbs.

EYES: Green

HAIR: Long, brown, and shaggy, usually worn in a braid.

PHYSIQUE: Solid, curvy.

SKILLS: Expert elementalist; trained (if mediocre) tactician; trained herbalist and healer.

POSITION: Elementalist and field healer with the Gaelk Militia.

WEAPONS: Two Emburley pistols; a long knife; her spells.

APPEARANCE: Her pale skin, rather like Parian marble (white, semi-translucent) is eternally unaffected by the sun and has a slight sheen. Has a heart-shaped face, large round eyes, a snub nose and a generous mouth--not really "pretty," but not without a certain appeal. She wears trousers, a shirt, vest, belt, and knee-high boots; she wears a small draw-string purse around her neck that contains a few stones with special, personal meaning. Has a habit of squinting when thinking, and prefers not to look up at taller people, so she usually ends up talking to their stomachs.

PERSONALITY: Very mercurial; easily offended but also easily amused. She is a very "chummy" person but is always a little on edge around those who aren't Gaelk. She's also very sensitive about her height (for a Gaelk she's quite tall, and that combined with her Parian-marble skintone made for malicious and completely false rumors amongst her peers that she's got an Arcanite somewhere in her bloodline). She has a special affinity for fire since her stone of choice is flint, and she's good with gunpowder and stone-molding.

I'm in

NAME: Cole Turner

RACE: Human

AGE: 25

HEIGHT: 5'11

WEIGHT: 145

APPEARANCE:(I'll put this all in one) Sky blue eyes, light brown hair a little long in the back. Strong build but not overly muscular. Wheres light armor with protection equal to medium. Black in color it is extremely flexible.

RANK: "Mercenary" He was hired as a recruit earlier on, but never signed on with the army for life. Was given the rank of Sargent, but was only put in charge of a small squad. His men didn't fallow orders that caused there deaths early in the battle.

EQUIPMENT: A long sword worn on his back. Many criticized him for it, but he is very skilled and has come in hand with close encounters. A high powered rifle that fire energy bolts.(Like Star Wars i guess)It has a 2x scope so it's useful as a medium-long rang weapon. Two D-17 blaster pistols.

PERSONALITY: He cares about others a puts others above. Even so he doesn't like to be pushed around and if nudged enough he can have a foul temper.

When'd we be startin this?

I'm not sure. Do you think Hunter would mind if we started now or are we better waiting for him to start?

Let's start it.

Dono's Storybooks are the best. I'm having a Gaelk!

NAME: Greldan Lyaim (Pronounced ‘Lee – aim’ and following the same naming pattern as Fand)

RACE: Gaelk

AGE: 39

HEIGHT: 4’ 2”

EYES: Dark brown.

HAIR: Shoulder length, dark brown hair.

PHYSIQUE: Large and stocky. More muscle than fat (although only just!)

SKILLS: Poor with magic but very thick-skinned. He was never trained in magic and so developed huge skill in mechanics. He is renowned throughout his village for his technical prowess but, unfortunately, will not make a name for himself very far beyond it due to the scientific backwardness of his race compared to the Humans. He is an erratic shot with his ‘pistol’.

RANK: ‘Chief Engineer’ and ‘Former Technical Advisor’ to the ‘Gaelk Battle Master’.

BRANCH: Gaelk Mechanised Infantry Division

WEAPONS: A ‘pistol’ of his own variety. It consists of four barrels, which can be fired individually, arranged with the largest in the middle and the other three equally spaced around the outside. The ammunition consists of shaped rocks which are propelled by ‘cakes’ of a gunpowder-like substance of his design. These are solid enough to be easily slotted into the gun, but the slightest presence of moisture ruins them. He calls it ‘The Braag’ which is ‘The Beast’ in Old Gaelkan. It is not really a pistol.

APPEARANCE: He is deeply tanned and his facial features look squashed on his small face. Deceptively, his eyes are small and hidden beneath bushy eyebrows but they see more than they appear to. He has barely any neck, what there is of it is hidden beneath an equally bushy beard, and his short stubby fingers seem completely incapable of any delicate work. Through honing his craft, however, he has achieved a startling degree of complexity with his digits.
He wears a thick dark-green vest that is inevitably smudged with patches of engine oil, transferred from pieces of engine to his clothing by his habit of wiping his hands every few minutes. His dislikes trousers and so usually wears shorts. Because of his tough feet, he wears no shoes, preferring to be ‘at one’ with nature.

PERSONALITY: His gifts are mostly passive and he has strange taste for dark caves, possibly because of his incredible eyesight. He has an aversion to long trousers. His excuse is that if he has trousers with lots of pockets, he fills them with useful nuts, bolts and heavy bits of engine. This all contributes to his trousers falling down at inconvenient moments and the loss of his colleagues’ respect. Despite being very loud and raucous he rarely confides his feelings in others and has few real friends. His comradeship extends to any Gaelk and he is only a little wary of Arcanites. With Humans, however, he is likely to sit in stony silence and tolerate them if necessary. He blames his pet hate of them on their technological supremacy but that is not the real reason.

The intel was bad--someone made a big goddamn mistake.

It was supposed to be a simple act of riot control; head South, destroy the uprising, report back by dinner. Fuck that.

One second we were "marching"--four Armored Personnel Carriers of thirty shock troops each, two Melencamp Anti-Personnel Attack Vehicles, three snipers including myself, and the Commander's personal Mobile Command Vehicle. Accompanying us were a score of Gaelk from a nearby village, a dozen Arcanite Weavers sent by the Triad to be babysitters, I'm sure.

Next thing I knew, I was getting reports from my other two snipers that they were under fire--then they were suddenly cut off. I'd checked my DMPS for their location, but hesitated before jumping to them--they were already dead.

Before I could report to the Commander, some fool who was promoted right out of Officer's Training, the MCV took a hit and exploded, sending shrapnel flying into the convoy of APCs.

"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!" Came the predictable yell from one of the Melencamps. I immediately cloaked and jumped up into a tall redwood for cover. It was there that I sat until it was over.

The attack was quick, the defeat, quicker. They outnumbered us three to one. They used technology resembling the old treaded, gasoline based attack tanks from over a century ago, but also cast bolts of lightning and balls of fire from their stony fists. They were brutal and utterly merciless, but they moved with a greater purpose.

After the fight, they didn't bother to make sure they killed everyone, they just quickly moved on after the fighting stopped, heading further inland.

I'd managed to put a few of them down with well placed headshots, but I dared not take anything I couldn't kill for fear that I might be discovered. I watched my countrymen die.

As soon as the last Blood Dog was out of sight, I moved back in to check for survivors.

Some may call what I did cowardice. I call it self preservation in a fight we couldn't have won.

"Shit." That's all I could say as I pushed a heavy Gaelk off me. "What in Gods named happened. When did the enemy get this organized?"

I stood up and looked around. Everyone seemed dead. I heard a rustle behind me and pulled out one of my D-17's. When I turned I had a sniper rifle in my face.

"Well, at least i'm not alone," I said lowering my pistol, but the man didn't lower his weapon. "Are you going to get that out of my face!?"

The man lowered it. He had no exprestion on his face at all. "What's your name?"

"I should ask you the same question. If you must know my name is Cole."

"Lance."

He walked off without even glancing at me. That ticked me off, but a lot had just happened. Out of my left eye i saw something move, "What's that over there?"